


Pailing Games

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Cronus is an ass man, Focus on the tunabooty, Light Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Smut, can be viewed as redrom or blackrom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3241640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mituna just wants to play his video games, but Cronus is much too interested in his posterior to let such a chance for great pailing go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pailing Games

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this forever ago for a nonnie on tumblr and forgot to ever post it

You can’t really help yourself, being the raunchy cool cat you are, when he plants himself on the ground, fumbling for a video game under his concupiscent platform, face down-ass up. So obviously you step forward and run a hand up the seam of his way-too-tight jumpsuit. He chirps in surprise and jolts, smacking his helmet-covered-head up against the rim of the platform.

You chuckle and pull away as he scoots back, sending you a scowl through his bangs and visor. You raise your hands in defense and shoot at him, “Hey, nowv, c’mon chief. I vwas just playin’.”

He huffs long and low, then turns and hesitantly settles back on his knees to search for the disc. You wait the appropriate few seconds until he starts cursing softly under his breath, back arching beautifully so he can reach further, then silently settle to your knees behind him.

You grin lecherously to yourself, trying to commit the fine shape of his ass to your memory for the rest of your sweeps before you make a move. After you’re sure you’ve got the image down pat, you grab two handfuls of his posterior and squeeze.

Mituna squawks indignantly and tries to kick back at you, but one of your hands immediately grabs his inner thigh, claws digging in to keep him still. He keeps quiet for a few long seconds, wriggling in discomfort, before you loosen your grip.

“I…th’it, I found the…thing.” He stammers, and you grin as you let him shuffle back, right into your lap, legs spread wide around your folded knees.

He brandishes the disc wildly, and you pluck it from his grasp, tossing it up onto the platform. He squirms a little and you swat his ass, light and almost teasing, barely producing a sound. Nonetheless he yelps and squirms violently.

Now, that just won’t do. You take him by the hips and drag him up into your lap fully, tipping him upright. His back to your chest, your hands dip forward, pushing his legs apart and hooking them over your knees, which are spread more now to accommodate him.

He huffs, helmet knocking gently against your forehead, and you purr low in his ear, “Take it off.”

He trembles a bit, mumbling incoherently to himself as his gloved fingers fumble with the strap. He eventually unbuckles it and tugs it up and off, his tousled hair skewing your line of vision. He sets the helmet by your knees and you nudge it to the side, out of his reach.

“C-uh-ro-nu’th…” He whines, turning a bit to look over his shoulder at you, and you run a hand up his chest, flicking the little flap of fabric out of the way so you can get at his jumpsuit’s zipper.

You tug it down a little, and you swear he melts a little more every inch it descends. He fights his gloves off and puts them down on the floor, reaching back and raising his arms, winding them around your shoulders to grip at the feathery hair at the nape of your neck.

You finally hit the bottom of the zipper line, his slightly pudgy tummy spilling out against the confining fabric. You run your hand over it before reaching between his legs, bypassing the tips of his unsheathing bulges to dip your fingers into his nook.

He sighs breathily, leaning back into you more fully now, and you scissor your fingers in him, resulting in a little hitch of breath and a whimper of your name. He twitches under you, his bulges quickly slipping out to wind around your wrist.

They squeeze and constrict, and you make a point to roll your lower arm back and forth, thrusting your fingers slowly. Mituna begins to groan softly, head tilted back, then turns and sloppily starts to run his bifurcated tongue over your neckgills.

You moan a little and nudge him up with your chin so you can kiss him, swiping your tongue along his plump bottom lip. You nibble and he squeaks, twisting about in your grip, and you smile at him when you let him free of the kiss.

He settles more in your lap and starts rutting back and forth. You hiss at the sudden friction on your bulge, stuttering in your movements a second before mumbling, “You vwant me t’ fuck you, baby?”

The yellowblood nods frantically, scrambling from your lap and tearing his boots off. You swipe the disc off the concupiscent couch and fumble with your belt buckle, shoving your jeans and briefs down just enough to let your bulge out.

It coils in the cool air and you watch hungrily as he fights his legs free of his jumpsuit. You admire his slight weight for a second before leaning over him and grabbing his wrists. You pin them above his head with one hand and use the other to lift his legs over your shoulders one by one.

He mewls eagerly and rocks his hips up, making little needy noises. You growl gently and he groans, head tossed back as he watches, trying to bump his hips towards your bulge. Figuring he’s been sweet enough to ask so kindly, you guide your bulge down to his greedy nook and slip inside.

He hisses loudly, walls pulsing around you. The heat of his lowblood body drives you crazy, and you thrust hard immediately. It’s like fucking wet silk, and it’s so cod-damn good you don’t know how long you’re gonna’ last.

As an insurance policy to make sure he comes first, you tangle your hand with his bulges and keep fucking him, hard and fast. His back arches and he wails, grinding his heels into your shoulder blades in an attempt to take you deeper.

Of course you comply, pounding away at him. He screams after a second and you lash your bulge deeper into him, snarling slightly and taking him all for yourself. He cries out as he hits his peak, spilling golden genetic material all over your hand and belly.

You lean down, folding him in half, and sink your teeth into his shoulder, burying yourself up into the hilt inside of him. He moans lowly and shakes through your orgasm as you do, his stomach distending slightly from all the pent up material inside him.

You take a long while before pulling out, digging a bucket out from beneath his platform and leaving him to release into it as you settle onto the bed. You hear the splattering come to an end, and he settles against your side.

The respiteblock is only full of your quiet breathing, but before long, he lazily asks, “Can we play that game now?”

You only laugh and ruffle his hair in response before nudging him to go set it up as you fix your jeans.


End file.
